


slump

by gryffindormischief



Series: alight with happiness [21]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, F/M, sultry times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26073475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: James Potter is quite expert at quidditch, and when he's not, he's expert at working himself into a strop.(SULTRY FIC!)
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Series: alight with happiness [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/673730
Comments: 22
Kudos: 60





	slump

**Author's Note:**

> this is for lovely petals, the best petals, because I said I was in a slump and petals said well write a fic about it. hehehe.

By the time the locker room door slams shut, James has already pulled one shin guard free and moved on to the opposite arm guard, messily tugging at the buckles. Once he nears his locker, he fires them inside and grabs the collar of his deep blue practice robes and begins wrenching them over his head, only to be stopped halfway through by the insistent pull of his remaining arm and shin guards. Which, in his currently fully frothed up rage, is a highly unpleasant situation.

He’s begun a low, indistinct growl in his throat when the locker room door slams open a second time. “It’s one damn practice and I don’t give a shit if it’s unsportsmanlike to - ”

A snort sounds. The only thing he can stand less than an enraged talking to from coach right now is a smug one. 

And James is ticked off enough that he turns around to tell him so - only to find a shorter, red haired, and slightly more intimidating someone waiting and watching.

“I thought you were coach,” James manages.

“Coach Benson?” Lily scoffs, “He’s the size of a damn house!”

“We’ve always said you’re a troll in our hearts - and ears - when in a strop.”

Lily narrows her eyes. “I wouldn’t say I’m the one in a strop right now.”

As it is often wont to do, the mention of his foul mood brings said foul mood right back to the fore. “Can we please not talk about it?”

He sounds a lot more dejected than incensed than he was going for, eyes embarrassingly filling with angry tears and clouding his vision so he can’t quite see the buckles clearly enough to fumble them open.

Gently, Lily makes her way toward him, fingers finding and releasing the straps with sure, quick flicks. James blows out a breath while she throws the guards into his locker, then begins bunching his robes at his side. He smiles down at her, weakly. It’s not forced - he can barely keep a genuine smile from his face when Lily’s around, but he’s just so - frustrated.

With a soft touch, he brushes her hands away and resumes his earlier work of lifting the robes over his head. “I’m not a total incompetent, despite what my Porskoff Ploy made it look like today.”

He hears Lily let out a huff of a laugh while he blindly wanders toward the laundry bin so he can toss the sweaty, smelly, mud and misery stained garment out of his sight as soon as possible. 

Lily’s barely half an arm’s length away when he turns, and he jolts backward, shoulder blades smacking into the gold and blue painted cinder block walls. “What the hell Evans?”

There seems to be a war within her regarding the appropriate reaction - full-on laughter or the old tried and true ‘you loveable idiot’ eye roll, so she settles in between at casual bemusement. “What would the boys say if I told them their fearless leader was such a baby?”

“Sirius knows you’re creepy when you sneak around.”

She finally does laugh now, stepping in closer so her chest nearly presses into his, so if he turned his gaze from her eyes he’d see clear down the front of her sundress. “I meant the team, smarty pants.”

“I mean they’re all a bit terrified of you too. Except Dorcas - she doesn’t like being called a boy by the by, and - bloody hell,” James jerks back again, knocking his head into the wall a bit so he sees stars. Or maybe that’s because Lily’s hands are currently under his shirt, tickling up his sides.

Lily frowns and starts to pull away. “Do you not want - ”

Desperately, he shakes his head, nearly causing his glasses to slip from his nose. Hell he should not still feel this gormless when Lily Evans...Potter is looking at him like this. But he is, and she is, and his goggles are still strapped around his head so when he nervously goes to ruffle his hair, his finger gets caught in the strap. 

Their eyes connect and soon enough they’re both dissolved into giggles, Lily’s forehead pressed into his sternum. “I didn’t forget Dorcas - she already knows you’re a baby.”

When their laughs quiet, Lily’s already begun resuming her under-the-shirt exploration of his chest and she can definitely see how rapid his breathing has become. And even if she doesn’t notice that, he’s fairly certain his heartbeat is echoing off the walls at this point.

She presses a kiss to his neck, warm and lingering, and he only has half a thought of how he must smell like sweat and dirt and maybe even a little body odor before she kisses him again and one hand slips from his side down his thigh. It’s a bit odd, but honestly Lily can do what she likes as far as he’s concerned. 

Except when it seems like she’s trying to curl his leg around her hips and lift him against the wall. He’s got no qualms with playing damsel to her gallant knight - particularly last May after Prongs got a little wild and trampled Bathilda’s prized zinnias - but Lily’s so tiny. He’s going to snap her in half if she tries to pick him up.

When he says as much Lily pulls away from her exploration of his jawline with a frown. “I’m ravishing you.”

“You’re going to tip over.”

She presses her hips into his in gentle, repetitive motions, and while it’s not a verbal argument, it’s convincing nonetheless. For a time.

“Lily please.”

Lily’s mouth finds his, her fingers slipping into his hair, pale yellow nails scraping at his scalp, and he almost forgets again. But he’s a bit bullheaded. Or so Da has always said, usually followed by a groan and ‘wait until I tell Mum.’

He somehow gets the motivation to grasp her shoulders, pull their bodies apart a bit, and by the time they’re gaping at each other with red lips and heaving chests, James can’t quite recall what his reason was. 

Particularly since Lily’s impatient glare is a bit terrifying even when not aimed at you squarely.

“I really don’t think you should pick me up and well - ”

She blinks.

“I’m twice as big as you, Lily. Physically speaking.”

In her first show of possible compromise, Lily nibbles the corner of her lip in thought. Then she drops his leg and quickly turns. For a moment, he thinks he’s really ticked her off and she’s going to leave him and his now very real predicament alone for a cold shower. 

Instead, she scans the room and her eyes settle on his locker cubby before turning back toward him with a dangerous gleam in her eye. 

“Have a seat Potter.”

“In the locker room?”

“Is that not something you normally do in here?”

His jaw works helplessly, even as he begins making his way toward his locker. “I mean not that kind of - have a seat?”

When Lily nods, she’s fighting the laughter that he knows must be bubbling in her chest at this point, and James feels an answering smile lift his lips. “Yes ma’am.”

After he does as instructed, Lily follows, undoing the bottom few buttons on her dress, revealing miles of skin, and those little plain white sneakers she wears whenever given the chance. She’s got a bruise on her shin from last week when they rearranged the living room for the eight hundredth time, and a scrape on the opposite knee she earned during a wrestling match with Padfoot yesterday afternoon. Neither of them takes losing tug of war very well. 

James is recalled from his thoughts when one of Lily’s knees lands by his thigh, the other quickly bracketing him on the other side, spread so another button slowly works itself open on her sundress. He can just about glimpse - 

“Alright Potter?”

He glances up now, hands following his gaze up her hips, ribcage, until his fingertips skirt the edge of her dress and tickle at her bare skin. With a nod, he tips forward and nudges the straps of her dress down so his lips can map the familiar expanse from one shoulder to the other, pausing to nip at her collarbone. 

Just as he’s about to slip the top button of her dress free, revealing more of her hidden beneath the golden, red, and green hued garment, her hands fall between them and pull his belt open with more ease and familiarity than her previous work at his guards.

Lily pauses, warming her perpetually chilly fingertips with short breaths from her lips, wide green eyes watching him over her cupped hands. He can see the smile lines appear around her face as he grasps her palms and does the work of warming them for her, leaving errant kisses in the wake of his exhales.

Her impatience seems to grow as she begins wriggling her hands free of his grip while rocking her body against his and making James see stars a second time in the space of a half hour. “Lily.”

“You’re - you’re the one being so slow,” LIly whispers against his temple while she completes her earlier work, hands slipping beneath his clothes and nearly driving him batty with strokes, circuits, and touches that ratchet up his pulse.

Finally, he pops the last button necessary open on her dress, drags his hands around her waist, and they work in tandem to clear only the most necessary places to continue, all in the space of a few breaths.

When she arches into him, he tips backward, his carelessly discarded gear digging into his back, but he can’t quite manage to care. Not when Lily’s grabbing his hands, putting them where she wants, while she takes what she needs and gives him the same. 

As they near the end, she pitches forward, palm landing flat against the waxy wood and forehead nearly knocking into the clothing bar embedded at the top of his cubby.

Instead, she tucks her face against his neck, whispers desperate words in his ear, urging, pleading, until they collapse against each other, pliant, satisfied, and utterly spent.

After a handful of moments, she stirs - he’d nearly drifted off - and presses a kiss to his lips. “Feel better?”

“Yes, thank you Dr. Evans.”

She laughs, only half marred by a wince when she lifts herself from his lap and begins righting her clothes. “I do love when you call me that.”

James zips his trousers and rises. “Well it’s what you are. Plus I love calling you doctor - it’s a bit tittilating.”

“Hopefully only regarding one doctor in particular,” Lily snickers as she sets the last button closed and blindly finger combs her hair. 

He leans in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I dunno. Dr. Willis is pretty fanciable.”

“He’s practically old enough to be McGonagall’s granddad.”

“Silver foxes are a thing, Evans.”

Once his gear is messily shoved out of the way, James slings his arm around Lily’s shoulders while hers finds his waist and they pick their way back out of the locker room. 

It’s only once his hand finds the door that he considers - “Lily we were quite scandalous just now.”

“We’ve been married seven years and have a baby, love. It’s no scandal to shag me.”

“But in the locker room - no locks!”

He shoves the door open before she can respond and finds himself face to face with the rest of Puddlemere’s first string team, expressions varying from smug, impressed, and on a few sour impatience.

Greenway glances between them, hesitant, before settling on Lily. Who is apparently more terrifying than their previously very surly team captain. “Can we go in now, Dr. Evans?”

Lily bites her lip, barely hiding her grin. “Yes, we’re quite finished.”

Meadows elbows James as she passes, “Which surfaces did Evans have her way with you against? Need to do a proper cleanse.”

Lily grabs James hand and begins pulling him toward the apparition point before turning to wink at Dorcas. “Wouldn't’ you like to know.”


End file.
